


Days Are Gone

by orphan_account



Series: The Gang Goes to High School [3]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Disordered Eating, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac finally visits Dennis at Penn State.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Don't Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's first impressions of college are shit at best.

The frat house for Delta Omega Alpha smelled like beer and weed and B.O.  
  
Dennis had promised for a year and a half to let Mac visit, but there was always an excuse on Dennis’ end. _“I’ve got way too much homework;” “Midterms are coming up, dude;” “It’s only freshman year. You’ll have plenty of time to visit!;” “It’s Toga this weekend, and I don’t want to have to babysit you. There’s this whole visitor policy thing…”_

Dennis seemed endlessly busy, too busy for Mac at least, who incidentally had all the time in the world.  He’d tried to get a job as a mechanic at his mom’s garage, but his mom wouldn’t even put in a good word for him and he didn’t know shit about cars anyway. So he halved his time between hanging with the guys (Charlie had managed to find a job as a dive bar janitor and was splitting the rent with Schmitty in a shit hole apartment) and getting stoned on his own supply.

Mac had gotten used to how Dennis looked when he came home for summer and winter breaks. A general air of malnutrition and exhaustion accompanied his sagging eyes and pale skin, but a couple weeks making mischief in Philly with the Gang always seemed to rejuvenate him.

It was spring semester of Dennis’ sophomore year when he finally agreed to let Mac visit. The weekend was surprisingly free for Dennis: no papers due, no hookups, no major frat socials, no excuses.

Dennis wasn’t going to drive 6 hours there and back to pick up Mac, so Mac took the noon bus that Friday in order to meet Dennis at the bus station by the time his classes let out.  He didn’t know what to pack because he’d never been on any big trips before. His mom and dad never took him on vacation, and the only overnight plans he ever made involved a 20-minute trip to a friend’s house. When Dennis pulled up to the bus station and Mac climbed into the passenger seat of the Range Rover, Dennis discovered that the only items Mac thought to bring were a couple of CDs, a shirt, fresh underwear, a frisbee, and a pillow.

Dennis was cordial enough on the ride back to campus, indulging Mac’s questions and asking a few of his own about the Gang. When they arrived on campus, Dennis drove around for 15 minutes because someone had taken his parking spot, so they ended up parked in some huge ass lot not too far from the frat house but still far enough away that it was a hassle.

They hiked across campus in the late February drizzle when a guy who must’ve known Dennis called out to Dennis.  
“Hey, Dennis!” the guy said.  
  
“Hey, bro! What’s up?” Dennis simultaneously slapped the guy on the arm good-naturedly and abandoned any idea that Mac was in the near vicinity.   
  
“The crew’s going over to the apartments tonight, that one chick you got your eye on is turning 21 and her roommate or whatever is throwing her a party. Like a real party, no board games and kiddie shit.  You’re coming right?”

"No way I’d miss that for the world, man!  When does it start?" Dennis’ eyes lit up at the prospect of his newest target getting wasted on her first night as a legal drinker.   
  
“Uh, we’re driving over around 6.  Is he coming with you?” The guy gestured to Mac, not expecting an introduction. Dennis turned around to see what stranger his college friend could be pointing at and laid his eyes on Mac, “Oh, uh, yeah he’s just an old friend from high school, you know what I mean. He wanted to see the campus.”  
Dennis didn’t even offer up his name, exiling him with “old friend from high school,” a label Mac hated instantly.  
  
He wasn’t an _old friend_. That sounded like they _used_ to be friends. They were still friends; it was _this_ jerkoff with the Lacoste sports jacket and polo who was the odd man out, the Real stranger.

The jerkoff didn’t seem interested in the information Dennis offered but decided to engage him in the standard questions nonetheless, “What college do you go to, man?”

Mac choked, not audibly he hoped. “Uh, I don’t go to college really.”

This sparked something dangerous in the obviously upper class, tennis team douche bag’s gaze, “Oh, so what do you do _really_.”

Mac tried but couldn’t for the life of him make his life sound enticing “I just sell weed, hang out, have fun times.”  
  
“Have fun times? Ya know, it’s no degree, but that sounds great dude.” The guy grinned maliciously, and Dennis laughed an antsy, shitstain laugh at his best friend.  
What had he done to deserve this?

_______________________________________

Mac wanted to disappear.  There wasn’t enough rage in him to lash out at Dennis, no, that had evaporated after Dennis told his roommate that Mac was staying until Sunday, to which guy responded, “Oh, _this_ is Mac? I expected you to be bigger. Ya know,” the 6ft tall jerk flexed, demonstrating his failed expectations for Mac’s physique.

"No, you know I would be bigger if I had a gym membership. But all I have is my own weight set, so…" Mac shrugged, explaining more to himself than anyone else why he wasn’t as awesome as Dennis had made him out to be.

The tall, intimidating, square-jawed roommate turned to Dennis, “I’m going to New York to visit my girlfriend, so I won’t be back til Sunday night. Don’t use my bed, or I’ll know and I’ll spread it around that you’re a fag and he’s your boyfriend, got it?” The threat was worryingly casual, but Dennis just nodded and laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t dream of touching your stuff, Lance. See you Sunday,” he threw up a wave salute as Lance walked out the door with a gym bag over his shoulder.

Dennis watched the door close and looked from Mac to his under-prepared backpack, “So, ah, a slight change in plans. I’m gonna make an appearance at this girl’s birthday party, try and convince her to blow me, the usual. And you can come if you want, but there will probably be a lot of people you don’t know, and I know how you get in crowds so…”  
  
Mac waited for the other foot to drop, but Dennis just trailed off, looking around the room as if the water stain in the corner of the ceiling were going to reply.  
“So you expect me to hang out in your room all night while you’re off getting laid?”  
  
“Not all night,” Dennis assured him, taking him by the shoulders in a way that should be encouraging but just came off as condescending, “I’ll be there…45 minutes tops. You can help yourself to whatever’s in my mini-fridge, and after that we’ll have a blast!”  
  
Mac huffed out a sigh, “Alright, but what are we gonna do in the meantime? Dude, can we like play foosball or ping-pong? All those college movies have those buildings with pool tables and shit like that.”  
  
“Ah-ah-ah, no can do, you see, I gotta prep for tonight,” Dennis gestured to his outfit, “I am in no way prepared to present myself to the masses.”  
  
“How long does it seriously take you to get ready? You look absolutely fine,” Mac protested, not understanding why Dennis would need to spend more time on his appearance to go to a party where everyone was drunk.  
  
“Mac, you know nothing of the college world. There is a certain level of sophistication my frat brothers have come to expect from me. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll be in the shower,” Dennis departed to the adjoining bathroom without another word, preparing to leave Mac alone in what might as well have been a foreign country.

_________________________________________

Dennis rolled in at around 11pm to find Mac asleep in his bed.

Mac hadn’t wanted to stay in the room to wait for Dennis, let alone spend the entire weekend with him.  He’d _wanted_ to tear all the posters off the walls of the small room and piss on that bozo Lance’s sheets, and if he’d had a car, there’d have been no question of him leaving that night with all the booze in Dennis’ fridge.

But Mac didn’t have a car. He didn’t even have the money to get a cab and buy a decent dinner, seeing as he was too excited to remember to eat lunch before leaving for Penn, so he ended up eating an entire box of the kind of pop tarts that were purple with the blue swirls on top.  There was a little basketball hoop on the back of the room’s door, so he shot the Nerf basketball a couple hundred times. He tried to kill time snooping through Dennis desk, but all he discovered were a box of condoms, boring textbooks, and a planner.  
  
He’d opened the planner; he wasn’t sure why.  Maybe he was expecting to find the answer to why Dennis was acting like such a goddamn jerk and blowing him off, but all he found written in for that day were block letters that read, “MAC!!”  
Whatever.  
  
The mini-fridge was bare except for half a bottle of Everclear and a carton of orange juice.  He uncapped the vodka and took a shallow swig, immediately regretting his decision. It burned like shit and made him want to die.  Well, maybe not that last part, but he was allowed to be dramatic when his best friend was crapping out on him.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed himself onto Dennis’ bed, breathing in the smell from the pillows under his head and wondering how someone who looked and smelled and laughed exactly like _his_ Dennis could throw him so blatantly, so thoughtlessly under the bus.

So when Dennis stumbled into the room with a girl trailing behind him and woke Mac up to tell him he needed his bed, Mac decided it was the last straw.

“No, dude, there’s no fucking way I’m doing this anymore.” Mac threw a half-aimed pillow at Dennis and drew up to his full 5’9 ½” height.

The girl drifted to the doorway, recognizing the signs of a growing conflict, “Hey, uh, I don’t know what’s going on, but we can go somewhere else.”

“No, we are not going anywhere else, Shelly.  Mac, this is my room, stop being ridiculous!” Dennis stood toe to toe with Mac, empty bloodshot eyes daring him to make a move, but Mac wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah, I’ll, um, bye, Dennis, I’m gonna go,” Shelly exited the room cautiously, closing the door behind her.

Now that the promise of sex had disappeared, Dennis went wild-eyed, grabbing the front of Mac’s shirt, “Why the _fuck_ did you have to do that for?”

Mac pushed him off, accompanied by the rip of his t-shirt’s worn collar under Dennis’ grasp.  The audible tear of fabric took Dennis aback, so Mac took advantage of the pause to charge and shove Dennis against the bathroom door, “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re not Dennis and you’re not my friend, and you’re gonna take me to the bus station tomorrow so I can go home.”  Mac locked eyes unwaveringly with Dennis, searching his face for any sort of coherent reaction.

Once Dennis realized Mac was being completely serious, he crumbled, sliding down, out of Mac’s grip to the floor.  Whatever Mac was expecting (a fist fight, death threats, venomous insults), this wasn’t it.  From Mac’s vantage point, the moonlight filtered through the blinds to emphasize just how sickly Dennis looked.  He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, instead squatting down to sit next to his defeated friend.

“Are we—are you really not my friend anymore?”  Dennis mumbled to his hands clasped together over his knees.

“Dude, you’ve been treating me like shit all day.  You ditch me for 5 hours and try to kick me out of the room so you can get laid.  Does that sound like a friend to you?” Mac was firm, waiting for the apology of the goddamn century.

Dennis wasn’t saying anything, but with the sound of a wet sniffle beside him, Mac discovered that was because Dennis was trying not to full-on breakdown.

“Dude…” Mac could only stare at the little teardrops dripping off Dennis’ chin. He didn’t want to change the subject, but Dennis just looked so pitiful, “Are you…okay?”

That obviously wasn’t the right thing to say because Dennis just began blubbering, eventually punctuating each sob with a whine.  Mac set his hand on his shoulder for comfort only to have Dennis drastically shift his entire body so that he slid across Mac’s chest to bury his face in his neck, waiting to be cradled.

This was completely out of Mac’s territory, but he didn’t freak out. He wrapped his arms around what he could of Dennis’ torso and let him sob until he could say something.

Snot ran down his already-ruined shirt, and Dennis was mumbling things into his shoulder.  
“Mac, don’t leave me, please.  You’re my—my _best_ _friend_.  I miss you all the time.  Mac, please, these guys here, they’re not like at home. They’re not like Charlie, not like _you_.  You don’t understand,” he clung to the undamaged side of Mac’s collar.

But Mac did understand, more than he could put into words.  
He waited a second before ruining whatever moment they were having, “Uh, dude, you’re gonna have to move, ‘cause my leg’s falling asleep.”

Dennis chuckled through his tears, leaning back over to his own side and standing up with Mac.  “I’m going to bed, uh, you can sleep with me.  I just need to take a piss first.”

Mac was sure this had more to do with cleaning all the fucking snot and tears off his face, but he wasn’t going to poke fun now, except…  
“You’re gonna buy me a new shirt tomorrow.  This one’s ruined and disgusting,” he shouted over the sounds of Dennis blowing his nose.  He slipped off his tee, balled the material up, and missed the trashcan by about a foot.

When Dennis finished cleaning up, the excess light from the bathroom momentarily illuminated Dennis’ weary red face and Mac’s scrawny frame until he switched it off, preferring the ignorance that darkness fostered.

This time a dry sniffle preceded Dennis speaking, “Lance was too tough on you. Your arms are looking great.”

“You think so?  I can do a lot of pull-ups. I haven’t counted, but it’s a lot.

Dennis peeled back the covers, smiling to himself.  The bed was miserably small for him by himself, but he wasn’t relegating Mac to the floor, not after all that had happened that night.

As Mac climbed into bed, Dennis turned to the wall so that they wouldn’t be face to face, but that didn’t prevent Mac from curling into a protective shell around him while they slept.


	2. Saint Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

A knock on the door wakes Mac up.  The alarm clock on the desk says 4am, so it must be the last few of the Friday night partiers playing a prank or some shit. Dennis is still emotionally exhausted, nuzzled into a nest of blankets, so Mac answers the door.

An average sized frat bro holding a solo cup greets him with wide eyes staring at Mac’s bare torso, “Whoa-ho, look at _you_ ,” he looks around Mac and spots a ripped t-shirt, “Ah, I was gonna ask Dennis for a—ride, but I can see he’s had his hands full tonight.” He does another once over of Mac’s body, stopping on his forearm tattoo.  Mac feels like he’s being inspected and crosses his arms over his chest.

The bro speaks again before Mac has the chance to tell him to leave, “Are you a freshman?”

“No, I don’t go here.”

“So how do you know Dennis?”  Why the guy is so interested he has no idea.

“I’m a friend—his best friend—from Philly. Uh, my name’s Mac,” he wishes Dennis had answered the door.  If the past day was a reflection of college life, he’s glad he fucked up enough to stop his education at high school.

At the mention of his name, the guy’s eyes light up in some kind of recognition or realization, “So _you’re_ Mac, huh?  Dennis has told me everything about you, and I mean _everything_ ,” the guy’s smile is unsettling, and he’s not comfortable with someone knowing “everything” about him without even knowing he existed.

The frat bro shifts as if to go, “Just tell Dennis that Austin stopped by, alright?”

Mac gives a quick, “Uh-huh” and shuts the door as quickly as possible, flicking the lock for good measure.  He stretches and roots through his backpack for some nightclothes because sleeping in jeans is goddamn torture. Upon discovering he failed to bring nearly anything of use with him, he slips out of his jeans and crawls back into bed, grabbing a corner of the comforter and executing a crocodile roll so that he might have a chance of winning some of the blanket back from Dennis.

__________________________

Dennis feels a body next to him, and from what he can tell, that body is mostly bare and jutting an arm up Dennis’ shirt. He doesn’t remember…did he not strike out with Shelly after all? 

Rolling over, he discovers Mac sound asleep in nothing but _briefs_ , what the actual fuck. He presses his back against the wall so that he might escape whatever he did last night.  “Mac!” he hisses quietly, “Mac, wake up.”

“Mmmm, what is it…”

“Dude!  Why are you naked in my bed?” The word “naked” jolts Mac awake in fear, “What? Oh, goddammit Dennis, I’m wearing underwear.  I’m _not_ naked.”

Dennis lifts the comforter and sheet again to make a point, “Uh, you may as well be naked, bro.  And since when do you have a shamrock tattoo?”

Mac takes a moment to remember if he actually had any such tattoo and explodes into giggles once the story comes to mind, “Oh, Schmitty—here’s what happened. Schmitty said, ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if you got a four-leaf clover tattoo on your dick because every time you bang you can mention how you got lucky?’  So I thought it was a really good idea, but I didn’t want to get it on my dick because that would hurt like hell.  So I got it right here, and I think that it might actually get me laid seeing as I’m _Irish_ Catholic and everything.”

“Let me get this straight.  You got a shamrock tattoo near your dick because not only will you think it will get you laid more but also so you can make a ridiculous joke that no girl in her right mind will find funny?”  Once he believes Mac can’t get any more stupid, he goes and proves him wrong time and again.  All this shit is too stressful, and on top of that, he’s still fully dressed so he fitfully kicks off his shoes and starts unbuttoning his khakis.

“Whoa, whoa what are you doing?” Mac tries to scoot away but ends up teetering on the bed’s edge and falling three feet to the floor on his ass with a shriek.

“I’m laying in _my_ bed in my underwear like a normal goddamn person.  Besides, I distinctly remember you going to bed in pants.”

Mac sits defeated on the floor, “Yeah, but then this guy came by asking for you, and I told him to beat it of course. Then I took off my pants and went back to bed.  It’s not that big of a deal, dude.”

Dennis had just finished struggling with his khakis and getting comfortable when this information hit him like a bucket of water, “Who was it?  You shouldn’t be talking to people here without me.”

“Ah, it was some creep named Austin. Said he needed a ride or something weird.  How do you know that guy?”  Mac stands up and climbs back into the bed, sitting with his back against the wall next to Dennis, hugging a pillow across his lap.

He doesn’t want to get into the whole mess, doesn’t want to tell Mac about his vulnerable freshman year and spilling his soul to an upper classman who just so happened to be the biggest scum bag predator on campus, “Austin is a total loser.  If he figures out your dirty laundry, he’ll blackmail you to give him favors,” Dennis figures that’s honest enough, while substituting ‘favors _’_ for ‘blowjobs.’

Mac wrinkles his nose in disgust, “That’s gross. He was looking at me all weird, too.  He said he knew things about me.  Is that why he’s blackmailing you?”

He stares at the floor, replaying the memory, waiting for the right time to speak, “So, uh, last year I was drunk, and it was spring semester and I just missed home so much you know.  And he asked me what was wrong, and I told him that even though I was doing so great building up a reputation here, I missed my friends,” he pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and perching his head on top, “And he asked what you guys were like, so of course I told him all our great stories,” he hears Austin’s voice asking if Mac was ‘just a friend,’ “And I told him things that he could twist and make me look so bad.  Like you know if you do anything here, everyone knows in a week.” 

Mac was just a friend, but Austin knew about the times they’d kissed and he had the power to make it sound like Dennis was…to make it sound like he was gay without the context, without mentioning that the whole thing was for Mac’s own good.  At least Austin’s graduating this year, that way he won’t have to worry about “owing” anymore “favors” or being on edge about people thinking he’s gay.

“What did you say that could possibly make you look so bad, man?  I mean we’ve done awesome stuff together, nothing to be ashamed of.”

He’s not going to tell Mac everything he told Austin. If anything, that encounter made him realize you shouldn’t reveal yourself to anyone no matter how much you trust them, so he goes with a convincing lie, “It’s not what I said about you. I think it’s mainly that I looked like a pussy, all crying and shit and talking about my feelings. Stuff like that can ruin a guy. Now.  Back to the shamrock tattoo.  How long have you had it exactly?”

And just like that, Mac’s attention is diverted enough to avoid suspicion, “Uh like a month.”

“And have you had sex in that month?”

“Well, no, ‘cause you gotta let the tattoo heal,” he removes the pillow from over his crossed legs to reveal the clover once more.

“Instead of getting you laid, it has actually _prevented_ you from having sex. How is that lucky again?”

“Because now I can be like ‘Hey, wanna see my shamrock tattoo?’ And when she says yes, I’ll have to take off my pants to show it to her, and she’ll think I’m so clever that she’ll blow me.”

Dennis looks up at the ceiling in frustration, “I mean if she’s dumb enough to not stop you from taking off your pants in public then go for it.  But I gotta give it to you,” he reaches over to Mac’s thigh and sweeps over the tattoo gently with his fingertips, “this is a real sensitive spot, and a tattoo is basically a target begging to be kissed.”

Sensitive is an understatement.  Mac’s single-minded focus centers on the soft swirls of Dennis’ thumb against his inseam.  He tells himself the swelling in his chest and…other places are exactly because the place is so sensitive to anyone, even Dennis’, touch. It doesn’t help he imagines lips brushing up against his thigh, maybe biting at the spot, “Yeah, it’s really…it hurt a lot more than the one on my arm.”

Dennis moves to circle the clover with his pointer finger, “I mean, I think that makes it even more badass to be honest. It means you’re just that tough.”

His briefs aren’t hiding anything.  Dammit he really needs to invest in some boxers. “Dennis, what are you doing?” He doesn’t want to draw attention to the situation because there’s nothing… _weird_ about Dennis touching him, but things are gonna get awkward real soon just because of the general placement of the touching.

“What’s wrong, Mac?” he stops tracing his thigh and rests his hand flat against Mac’s skin, “Does it still hurt? Is it sore?”

He could take this excuse and run with it, but no, apparently he’s not picking up on the easy out Dennis provided him, “No, it’s not that.  It doesn’t hurt. It’s just, the area, you know, is very,” he looks down and exhales sharply, “sensitive, and you’re like almost touching my dick, and—“ He’s cut off by Dennis sliding his hand up to palm him through his underwear.  At this, he tenses, closes his eyes, and places a hand on top of Dennis’, wrapping his fingers around his hand as if to pull him away but changing his mind halfway through and pressing him closer.  His brain is absolute fuzz, static telling him he needs this, and he’s lifting his hips against their hands to get more friction.

Dennis feels Mac’s cock grow harder under his touch, and as much as it pains him to do so, he removes his hand from underneath Mac’s. However, in the very next second Dennis is up and lifting his leg to straddle Mac’s lap.  He runs the back of his fingers up and down Mac’s ribs before anchoring his hands on Mac’s hips and rocking his pelvis forward.

Where any of this came from, he doesn’t care. He knows he isn’t gay, so maybe Dennis is the gay one.  Maybe he’s doing his friend a favor with college being so tough and all. Doing his gay friend a favor. That’s what this is. He wraps both his hands around Dennis’ ass to keep him moving steady against his cock when he feels breath against his neck.  Dennis kisses up his neck and behind his ear, tickling him, making him grin as wide as possible. Dennis hovers over Mac, breathing a small moan into his ear, causing Mac to arch upwards to regain contact with Dennis’ lips.

“You like that, mm?” Dennis whispers, moving his hands to completely encircle Mac’s small torso.  He kisses across Mac’s cheek until he finds his mouth, lingering with a loose kiss until Mac decides to reciprocate, holding the suction between their lips as if it were their first and last kiss.

Mac slips his hands under Dennis’ shirt, tugging it up in a suggestion to remove any material between their bodies. Dennis pulls the shirt off with Mac’s help and throws it behind him to the floor.  Mac shoves his hands down the back of Dennis’ waistband, and he’s met with a completely undesirable reaction when Dennis slides off Mac’s lap to stand in front of him.  But, fortunately, Dennis pushes his boxers to the floor; Mac watches, biting his lip in anticipation.   Mac reaches for his own briefs, and Dennis helps to discard them, lifting up his ass to pull them off.  Dennis doesn’t waste any time hopping back onto Mac’s lap, taking both their cocks in hand, rubbing their shafts together side to side.

As comfortable as the rough, spackled wall is against his back, Mac leans to the side, leading the two of them to rest on the bed. Dennis presses the full length of their naked bodies together, curling his fingers through Mac’s floppy hair, savoring the wet noise of their lips parting with each kiss, and running his tongue along Mac’s bottom lip teasingly.  Mac goes straight for Dennis’ ass again, pulling him against his pre-come slick cock.

The smell of the pillows, Dennis’ fingers trailing softly against his face and arms, kisses pressing into his neck and deep into his mouth, he’s completely encompassed in a Dennis- centric sensory experience. He whines as Dennis grazes his jaw with his teeth, a mark he’ll pretend is razor burn later, and Dennis starts kissing down his throat, down his chest inch by inch, into the curves of his pelvis, and…down past his cock to suck on the cheap green shamrock. Dennis runs a thumb up the bottom of Mac’s cock, forming a fist around the head and stroking softly because he’s sure Mac’s so close that this must be torture. 

With one last suck to the tattoo, he places his wet lips an inch around Mac’s cock, sucking and twirling his tongue at the tip until Mac comes with an upward jerk of his hips.  Mac lies before him, breathing heavily and smiling with closed eyes.  He looks down at Mac with a mouth full of his jizz and realizes he’s no longer comfortable now that Mac’s not eager for sex.  The bed squeaks and rises slightly as Dennis disappears to the bathroom to spit and finish himself off, pulling on some boxers and a shirt he grabbed on his way from the bed.

Dennis’ voice rings from behind the closed bathroom door, “Hey, Mac!  How about we buy you a new shirt today?  There’s a really great mall nearby with an arcade and everything.”

Mac sits up from his serene position to root through his backpack for new underwear.  It certainly sounds like _his_ Dennis has returned, and if he closes his eyes again, he can almost imagine them in their own apartment, living the bachelor life with Dennis as a doctor or businessman.  Maybe they’d have a dog; he’d like that.  They could get a big dog like a golden retriever and teach him tricks, but a dog like that needs a yard to play.  He figures that maybe because they’re obviously such great friends that they could rent a house someday, play with their dog in the yard, watch movies together, and definitely not go a day without seeing each other.

Dennis flushes the toilet, and Mac’s heart aches as he pulls his jeans on.  The weekend will end, and Mac will have to go back to Philly.  But right now he’s about to hang out with his best friend and make sure Dennis doesn’t forget about him amongst his college pals any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, that's a series wrap!  
> p.s. i don't care if it's actually a three-leaf clover tattoo, i like this better


End file.
